


It's the Yeast I Could Do

by sagansjagger



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Baking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Identity Reveal, Parent-Child Relationship, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagansjagger/pseuds/sagansjagger
Summary: Wandering the Parisian streets after nine pm on a Sunday, Adrien Agreste is miserable.He’d fought with his father about thestupidestthing.Fortunately, Tom Dupain is there to help him through his turbulent emotions, using the stress-relieving arts of stirring, kneading, and baking bread.It didn't hurt that Tom had a cute daughter, either.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Tom Dupain, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Tom Dupain
Comments: 57
Kudos: 339
Collections: August 2020 - Exchange





	It's the Yeast I Could Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Speckleflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speckleflower/gifts).



> A gift for Speckleflower from the August fic exchange on the [Miraculous Fanworks](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) Discord server! If you are interested in events like book club, fic exchanges, prompt months--and more!--join the server today!

Wandering the Parisian streets after nine pm on a Sunday, Adrien Agreste was miserable. 

He’d fought with his father about the _stupidest_ thing: Nino’s horrible fashion sense. That had escalated into Adrien begging to be allowed to see his friends--and he’d thought begging was beneath him, but apparently not--and his father completely shutting him down. 

Adrien had entertained high hopes that the dinner would be a good one. It was the first he’d had with his father in forty-eight days, and Adrien had thought that Gabriel had actually wanted to see his son that Sunday.

Apparently not.

Nathalie was no help during the discussion either, standing motionlessly beside Gabriel’s chair, eyes glued to her tablet. When Adrien was finally allowed to flee from the table, she reminded him that he had a modeling session the next day.

Adrien had immediately transformed and bolted out the window. He vaulted around the city blindly as Chat Noir, tears streaming across his temples as the wind whipped them off his face, but he felt bad for exhausting Plagg based on his temper tantrum. So he landed in an alleyway, called off his transformation, and fed his irate kwami. 

Now, they’d been walking the streets for Heaven knows how long, but Adrien kept being drawn back to his own neighborhood. The call of the Agreste manor was a siren song, pushing and pulling him in a dance known only to him and the occupants of the building.

He didn’t want to go inside. He took one look at the imposing, wrought-iron gate and walked away.

“Why doesn’t he let me see my friends, Plagg?” Adrien asked his pocket, his voice low and mournful. Tears had been spilling over his cheeks for so long now that they were thoroughly soaked. His vision blurred; he couldn’t see where he was going--a frequent theme of the night.

Plagg’s irritated voice drifted up from Adrien’s shirt. “I already told you, Kid, I don’t know.” 

Adrien wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. His nose had been blocked with snot for long enough to make him lightheaded from a lack of air. With a _thunk_ , he leaned against a glass doorway of a building and sank to his butt, sniffling.

But as soon as he’d sat down, the doorway opened. He pitched backward, stunned, but a large, meaty hand caught his head before his skull struck the floor. “Adrien?” a man’s voice said. “Adrien Agreste?”

Adrien blinked away tears, and Tom Dupain came into focus. “Mr. Dupain,” Adrien said and pushed himself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to darken your doorstep, I… I just…”

Tom’s eyes crinkled. His mouth was lined with worry under his bushy moustache. “Are you okay, son?”

 _Son._ The word struck Adrien violently; all he’d ever wanted was a parent who hadn’t abandoned him to his own devices, and Gabriel hadn’t ever made or fulfilled that promise. The man didn’t even send Nathalie to check on Adrien after dinners. And Adrien and Gabriel had fought about the _stupidest_ thing.

And here was Tom Dupain, father to one of his very good friends, reaching out to Adrien and reminding him of what he could have had. 

It was too much. It was all too much.

Adrien burst into tears.

What Tom did next surprised Adrien. The man knelt and pulled the boy into a hug. Thick fingers came up to cup the back of Adrien’s head, burying into his hair. A strong arm wrapped around his back, pulling him into a soft chest. The scents of fresh bread and a delicate, woody cologne filled his somewhat-blocked nose. 

Adrien was too stunned by the embrace to react at first. He’d so rarely been enveloped in an adult’s arms--or anyone’s arms--that he didn’t know what to do. Chest shuddering, Adrien allowed himself to respond to the tender squeeze. 

Tentatively, his hands moved of their own accord to press against the man’s shoulder blades. Fat droplets spilled out of Adrien’s eyes and stained Tom’s shirt. The boy’s breath hitched twice as he tried to compose himself.

He shouldn’t be crying on Tom, burdening him with Adrien’s problems. His emotions were messy and inconvenient and awful, and he needed to stuff, stuff, stuff. He gulped down precious oxygen and forced himself to stop crying.

Soon, too soon, Tom pulled back. “How would you like to learn to bake, son?”

There it was again. Son. Could Adrien learn from Tom? Would the man adopt the boy as a son, and make the word genuine? Adrien perversely felt like he was being teased.

Then Tom’s words sank in. “Learn to bake?”

“Sure, I could teach you the basics,” Tom said, counting off the things to learn on his fingers. “How to bake bread, how to use the right tools, how to use the oven correctly. Things like that.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He pointed at himself. “You’d do that… for me?”

“Of course,” Tom said, his bushy moustache curving up at the corners as he smiled. “You’re a friend of my daughter’s, so you’re a friend to me. And you seem like you could use a pick-me-up tonight.”

Adrien sniffled. “Yeah, I… I really could,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with his thumbs. “If you’re willing to teach me, sir, I’m willing to learn.”

“Call me Tom,” the man said, getting to his feet. His knees cracked, and he let out a soft, “oof.”

“Are you all right, si--Tom?” Adrien said, standing as well, sans knee-cracking.

“I’m fine,” Tom said, grinning. “Just getting old. Don’t worry about me, son, let’s start baking.” He strode across the bakery floor and stepped behind the table to the pantry. Adrien followed, and soon had an apron and a hairnet thrust at him. “What do you do know about baking?”

Adrien took the apron first, and slipped it on, tying the string in the back. He then took the hairnet and started tucking his floofy, blond hair underneath it. “I don’t know anything, sir. I don’t even know how to turn on an oven.”

“Every oven is different,” Tom said, appearing to take the news in stride. He turned to the cabinets and started pulling out glass bowls, plastic measuring cups, and wooden spoons. “Would you like to start with baking bread? It’s an easy enough project.”

A smile came upon Adrien’s lips unbidden. The easy way Tom moved about the bakery, like he owned it--which he did, but the movements were so much more than that--soothed Adrien’s mind. Tom simply _existed_ in the bakery as if it were a part of him, and he were a part of it. 

Adrien couldn’t possibly imagine the bakery without Tom; that would be terrible, like an inky, sucking wrongness in a room void of light.

“Baking bread sounds wonderful, thank you,” Adrien said, his smile growing ever wider. “What can I do?”

Tom laughed. “You can do everything.”

Adrien did indeed do everything: he sifted, he measured, he stirred, he kneaded, he let the dough rest. He rolled the dough into a loaf and placed it into a pan that he’d greased himself. All the while Tom baked his own loaf of bread with Adrien, giving gentle guidance and trading baking puns. 

As the two bakers put their bread in the oven, Tom said, “Did you know that in life love is all you knead?” 

Adrien laughed and told him, “I’ll give you a standing oven-nation for that.”

“Each one of us has an innate calling, Adrien,” Tom said, his eyes twinkling as he set the timer. “We all need to bake the world a better place than we found it.”

“I see now,” Adrien said, grinning from ear to ear. “I need to bake it ‘till I make it, right?”

“That’s more than you can bake a stick at,” Tom said, chuckling as he laid a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. 

Adrien cackled. "Well--"

The door to the house at the back of the bakery opened, and Marinette, blinking blearily and dressed in cute, pink pajamas, stepped through. "Papa?" she said, and then started. "A-Adrien? What are you doing here? It's ten-thirty at night!"

Adrien smiled at her. "Sorry, Marinette. I was all dressed up with nowhere to dough." 

Tom snickered, and Marinette squinted at them both. She tucked some strands of her hair, which had been left down and was really very pretty in Adrien's opinion, behind her ear. "What's on tonight going--I mean, what's going on tonight?"

"Are you feeling alright, Marinette?" Tom said, placing a huge hand on her tiny forehead. "You don't usually mix up your words."

 _She does around me,_ Adrien thought ruefully. _Is it my fault?_

Marinette flushed prettily and brushed her father off. "I'm fine, Papa. Question answered neither of you have!"

Adrien furrowed his brow, trying to parse that. When he realized what she was trying to say, his mouth made a little o-shape. "We're baking, Marinette. Your father was generous enough to show me how to make bread.”

Tom glanced between them, but said nothing.

Marinette's eyes widened. Adrien began to feel incredibly out of place. “I'm… I'm sorry to intrude on your house and your family. I’ll go now.”

He turned to leave, but she stepped close to him and caught his sleeve. “Stay?” she said, staring at her bare feet. Adrien's heart warmed behind his breastbone. She wanted him to stay? “I could teach you how to make a pie crust.”

Tom smiled broadly. "She only has pies for you."

Marinette released Adrien's shirt and placed her hands over her cheeks. "Papa!"

Adrien laughed. Marinette wanted him to stay. He felt great.

No, better than great. He felt wonderful. 

He took her hand in his and bowed over it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'd be honored to learn how to make a pie crust from you, my Lady."

Marinette blanched. "M-My Lady?"

Adrien immediately released her. _Why did I do that?_ he thought, kicking himself. _She's not Ladybug. And I'm not transformed! I'd better not call her Princess._

Tom spoke up. "Marinette, are you all right?"

She was still staring at Adrien as if he'd grown a second head. Her mouth worked, but she said nothing.

"Sorry," Adrien said, dropping her hand as if it had burned him. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't know you didn't like nicknames."

"Y-Yeah," she said, drawing her hand back to her chest and clutching her wrist. "Yeah, nicknames are terrible! They give so much away about the person giving them, hahaha!"

Adrien stared at her. _No. She couldn't be._

He looked her over. Same build. Same height. Same inky, black strands and soft, kissable lips and beautiful, bluebell eyes.

_... Could she?_

Tom gently slapped him on the back. "How about it, son? Do you want to learn to make a pie crust tonight?" Tom glanced at his daughter, eyes glittering playfully. "But, Marinette, you might want to get dressed first." 

Marinette gasped, cupping her own cheeks. A blush peeked out from her fingers. "Back right I'll be!" Then she fled upstairs, taking Adrien's curiosity with her.

He couldn't wait for her to return. Even if she was Ladybug-- _no way, no way, she can't be_ \--she was still his very good friend, Marinette. He liked seeing her cute self. 

(And if he was being truly honest with himself, he also liked seeing her cute self in her cute pajamas.)

Tom tried to throw another baking pun at Adrien, but the boy was too worked up to really respond with anything other than a nervous laugh. Why was he so anxious? She was just his dear friend. _There’s nothing nerve-wracking about her. She’s kind and sweet and lovely and…_ He gulped. Continuing down this line of thought was sure to get him in trouble. 

So he decided to stop thinking about her. Of course, right when he did, she returned, her face freshly-scrubbed and sporting her normal outfit. _Adorable,_ he thought, and then mentally cursed, because where did that thought come from?

Marinette had placed her hair in pigtails again and donned a hair net. Adrien was inexplicably sad about that; her hair was so gorgeous when she left it down. He could just imagine running his fingers through it and-- 

“Okay!” she said cheerfully, jolting him out of his entirely-inappropriate thoughts. “To make a pie crust, you need four types of ingredients: flour, fat, liquid, and salt…”

 _Get your head in the game, Agreste,_ Adrien thought, chastising himself for hopefully the last time.

As it turned out, making a pie crust was a lot harder than baking bread. Not too much harder--the basic process was the same: add wet ingredients to dry--but there were so many variations on the kinds of flours and fats and liquids they could use, Adrien’s head spun with all the possibilities. 

But as Marinette guided him through the massive undertaking, he noticed something about her. Something he liked a lot. As she eased into sifting, stirring, and salting, she stuttered less. She grew more and more confident as the night went on, even venturing to throw her own pie puns. Tom baked his own pie crust, but took a backseat to his daughter, the better teacher for Adrien, as he knew what she wanted to say almost before she said it and responded accordingly.

Adrien was amazed. _Is this the wonderful girl under all the nerves I’d never seen?_ he thought, awestruck by how gracefully she moved and how eloquently she spoke. She directed Adrien and Tom around the bakery as if she was born for it. 

Adrien could easily see her as a real princess.

Then he realized something else. _I really could follow her anywhere._

When Adrien’s crust turned out too crumbly to roll out, Marinette taught him how to save it. As she made the plan for him to add more water and pinch the dough together with his hands--and as he followed the plan having only heard the word “water”--the evidence that she was, indeed, Ladybug, began reasserting itself.

Just as they fought in sync, they baked in sync. She stood beside him, close enough for him to inhale her chocolate-coffee scent--the same as Ladybug’s--rolling out her dough and explaining the process concisely. 

“When transferring the crust to the pie plate, make sure the dough is cold,” Marinette said, dusting a little flour lightly on the top of her delicate, perfectly rolled-out crust. “If the butter softens, the crust will be…?”

“Sticky and hard to manage,” Adrien said, nodding as she showed him how to gently wedge a spatula under the side of the crust and fold it in half and then quarters. He followed suit without being told, and successfully transferred his crust to his pie plate.

“Good, Adrien,” Marinette said, and he wrapped himself up in her smile like a warm blanket, desiring to never leave.  
`  
Tom glanced between them, thunderstruck. “You two really work well together.”

They both flushed at that, staring at their feet.

Then Marinette stretched, breaking the awkward silence between them with a quiet little moan. Adrien’s cheeks burned even hotter.

“It’s getting late,” she said, and Adrien noticed the slight slump of her shoulders.

“I’m still wired, but you’re right, it’s almost midnight,” Adrien said, tempted to loop an arm around those tiny shoulders and offer her a squeeze. 

Tom finished plating slices of the now-cooled bread that Adrien had made earlier and offered one to each of them. “Here, try your bread!”

Adrien happily picked up the huge piece of buttered bread and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. The crust was perfect, just this side of crisp-tender. And the inside of the loaf--the crumb, Tom had explained before--was soft and moist, practically melting in Adrien’s mouth. 

And the taste! Yeasty and nutty and buttery--the flavors perfectly balanced each other, with a subtle tang to them that elevated the entire experience. The bread was literally the best food Adrien had ever eaten. And that he’d baked it himself... His eyes narrowed in pleasure.

“Mmph,” Adrien said, his mouth full but still wanting to express his appreciation to Tom for teaching him how to make something so divine.

Tom seemed to get the message. “You’re welcome, son.” Tom smiled and chomped down on a piece of Adrien’s bread as well. The large man chewed and swallowed, humming thoughtfully. “It’s delicious. Good job, Adrien. Marinette, you should try yours, too.”

Adrien stopped chewing, focusing all his attention on Marinette. He hadn’t noticed before, but she seemed to be examining the crust. “Nice, golden brown color.” She gently prodded the crumb. “Very soft.” Then she raised her plate to her nose and sniffed Adrien’s offering. “Excellent aroma.”

Adrien swallowed, finding with delight that his bread had an understated aftertaste that stayed with him. He grinned at Marinette, but addressed her father. “Uh, Tom? What is she doing?”

Tom chuckled. “She’s doing just as I taught her: savoring the bread like a fine wine.”

Marinette gave Adrien a sweet smile, jump-starting his treacherous heart. “Your first loaf deserves to be savored, Adrien.”

Adrien watched her as if he’d never get to see another sight in his life. His eyes followed her fingers as she lifted the slice to her open mouth, and his cheeks flamed as her pretty, red lips closed around the buttery bread.

She closed her eyes. “Mmm,” she moaned, and Adrien was ready to perish on the spot. She drew a breath through her nose and opened her bright, bluebell eyes. “This is so _good_!”

Adrien’s mouth watered. She had a small smear of butter on the corner of her lip, and all he wanted to do was kiss that off. _Rest in peace, Adrien Agreste,_ he thought. _You’re so screwed._

Marinette finished her bread with dainty bites, licking butter off her fingers. Adrien envied that butter more than anything he’d ever envied before.

When she finished, she smiled up at him in such a lovely way that he felt ready to faint. That pat of butter was still on the corner of her lip, and it was driving him crazy. _Why am I thinking these thoughts?_ Adrien wondered, tempted to tear his hair out. _She’s my good friend, Marinette!_

Adrien abruptly discovered something bothersome about himself: he was, by all accounts, a hormonal teenage boy. 

But his attraction was so much more than that. Marinette was cute and gorgeous and suave and confident and entirely-too-capable in the kitchen, and he was amazed at how far and how fast he’d fallen. Marinette was utterly charming, and he’d never crushed this hard on anyone before, much less a good friend.

A good friend who might--might, if he wished hard enough--be Ladybug.

He was done for.

“Y-You, um,” Adrien started, reaching out before he caught himself and drew back, “have some, uh, leftover bu-- bu-- _butter_! On your…. On your lip.”

Tom gave him a sideways glance. Adrien tried to ignore that, but the warning side-eye sent chills down his spine, forcing it straighter. 

Adrien expected Marinette to wipe the butter off with her finger. He did not expect to be treated with the sight of her little, pink tongue sneaking past her lips again. He very nearly sucked a breath over his teeth.

“Did I get it?” she asked innocently, and Adrien’s brain short-circuited. He could do nothing but stare at the spot she’d licked.

“So,” Tom said, laying a thick hand on his shoulder and giving him a friendly squeeze. “We should flute the pie crusts and put them in the freezer for tomorrow. We probably don’t have enough time to make full pies tonight.”

“Uh, yes, good, good idea, To--sir,” Adrien squeaked, and the gentle pressure on his shoulder increased slightly and kept increasing as he spoke. “Yeah, I should probably go home eventually. Soon. Now.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Tom released him.

Marinette took Adrien’s hands in hers. Adrien could barely hear her over the blood rushing in his ears. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

Marinette wanted him back.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng _wanted him back._

He beamed down at her, a ray of sunshine in a dark night. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

From then on, Adrien was a fixture at the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Under the gentle guidance of Tom and Marinette, Adrien learned to bake skillet brownies, vegan banana nut scones, pull apart cinnamon roll brioche, savory cream cheese and herb doughnuts, and chocolate cupcakes with avocado icing.

Adrien had been too scared to make a move on Marinette in the hulking shadow of Tom Dupain, but… maybe today would be different? Adrien wondered. He hoped beyond hope that the man would approve of him, and soon. Adrien didn't know how much more of his infatuation he could stand without acting upon it and asking her out.

Thoughts swimming, Adrien was just leaving his house after school to head over to his next lesson when his father appeared at the top of the stairs in the foyer. “Adrien.”

Adrien, who had placed his hand on the door handle, released it. He turned to his father slowly, feeling trepidation at the man’s harsh tone. “Yes, Father?”

“Nathalie has informed me that you are spending an inordinate amount of time at a bakery," Gabriel said, his voice completely without inflection.

Adrien had no idea what his father thought about the baking lessons, and that scared the boy. He figured he was about to find out.

"You will cease these visits immediately," Gabriel said, his lip curling. “Your diet won’t allow for carb-ridden _treats_.”

“But Father,” Adrien said, his heart slamming against his breastbone. “They’re teaching me how to bake. I’m learning a new, helpful skill that, um… will serve me well in adulthood?” Adrien clutched his chest. “Please, Father, I promise I won’t eat any of the food we--”

Gabriel’s voice cracked like a whip. “You’re learning to bake?”

Adrien started. He looked to his feet. “I… I am.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, forcing Adrien’s gaze up. The man clearly had something to say, and clearly wanted Adrien to look at him while he said it. Adrien hoped against hope that it would be something positive about his experience with the Dupain-Chengs, and that he could continue learning from them. 

Those hopes were dashed when Gabriel opened his mouth.

“You will cease learning immediately,” he said, and Adrien’s heart turned to water in his chest. “I’ll not have my son doing something so… _pedestrian._ ”

Adrien’s watery heart leaked out his eyes. Even sniffling didn’t clear his blocked nose. “It’s… It’s for a maths project! You know, fractions? Percentages? I’m learning so much! Please, Father, I _lov_ \--”

“Cooking is dangerous, Adrien,” Gabriel interrupted again. He hadn’t moved from the top of the stairs and his hands remained clasped behind his back, but Adrien still felt loomed over. “There are sharp knives, hot stoves, food safety risks… No. I refuse to allow it.”

Hot tears spilled over Adrien’s cheeks. He clenched his fists at his sides and bit a hole in his lip.

“Stop sniveling,” Gabriel sneered. “You are an Agreste. You will comport yourself with dignity. Wipe your face, Adrien Agreste.” 

Feeling at a loss, Adrien did as he was told. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist and sniffed. “Yes, Father. May I be excused?”

“You may, son.”

 _Son._ The word struck Adrien violently; hearing it fall from Gabriel’s lips so casually, so possessively, as if Gabriel _owned_ Adrien, felt wrong. And Adrien and Gabriel had fought about the _stupidest_ thing.

He wanted more than anything to hear the epithet spoken by Tom Dupain. That man’s gentle, encouraging title for Adrien no longer made him feel awful or wanting to compare what he lacked to what he could have. It made him feel… wanted.

Adrien did have the love of Tom Dupain, now. And Marinette’s.

How could he ever say goodbye to them?

Adrien decided he wouldn’t.

_I sneak out as Chat Noir all the time. What’s another bit of disobedience as Adrien?_

He strode halfway up the stairs, fists swinging at his sides, but then rethought his approach when Gabriel raised a brow. _I need to be meek. Humble. Compliant. I can’t give him a hint of my defiance._

As he approached Gabriel on the landing, Adrien lowered his head, casting his soft gaze to the floor. He intentionally made his lower lip quiver. He shuffled past his father, exposing the back of his neck as an act of submission.

Gabriel grunted and walked down the steps towards his atelier. Adrien was tempted to run the rest of the way up to his room, but he kept his steps slow and measured. He reached his bedroom and shut the door gently.

Then Adrien exploded away from the doorframe, stalking over to his desk. Plagg phased out of his shirt. “You’re going to transform, aren’t you?” the kwami asked, sighing.

“Darn right I am,” Adrien snapped and then jerked back. “Sorry, Plagg, I’m just annoyed right now. But I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Vacillating between irritated and morose, Adrien pulled his phone with its GPS tracking software out of his pocket and plugged it in at the charger on the desk. Hopefully his father wouldn’t send Nathalie to check if Adrien were still in his room, though the boy strongly doubted the man would. 

“Plagg--”

“Here we go...”

“--claws out!”

***

The boulangerie seemed empty of customers, which was good, Adrien thought as he called off his transformation in a nearby alleyway. He was tempted to slam the door open to the bakery. But out of respect for those who lived there, he carefully opened the door. The bell rang, and Tom looked up from the counter. 

“Adrien!” Tom said cheerfully and beamed. “How are you, son?”

 _Son._ The word struck Adrien violently; warmth bloomed in his chest and a smile curved his lips. Unlike the way his father had spoken, Tom’s epithet felt pure. Right. Like home. And Adrien and Gabriel had fought over the _stupidest_ thing.

“Do you need my help, sir?” Adrien said, crossing the bakery’s floor to slip behind the counter.

“You know I’ll always take _your_ help, Adrien,” Tom said, gesturing to the dough he was kneading. “Call me Tom.”

Adrien chuckled. He stepped over to the hook on the wall and picked up his apron--the apron that Tom had specifically bought for him--and his hairnet, and slipped them on. Then he washed his hands.

“Where’s Marinette?” Adrien asked, eager to see the girl who’d captured his heart. She was such a witty, confident, fun girl to be around. He was shocked that he’d never noticed her in this way before. But he was grateful that he knew her better now.

The only way she could be more attractive to him was if she were Ladybug.

And he was getting closer and closer to asking her out.

“She’s upstairs, probably doing homework,” Tom said, grinning at Adrien. “But you can go get her, if you want. I’m sure she’d love to bake with us.” Tom gave him a sly look. “You know how excited she gets when you’re here.”

 _What just happened?_ Adrien’s jaw dropped and his cheeks burned. “Oh, um,” he said, tempted to rub the back of his neck, but then he’d have to wash his hands again. “I’ll go get her, okay?”

“Sure,” Tom said, returning to kneading as if he hadn’t just turned Adrien’s world upside down.

As Adrien climbed the stairs to her room, he wondered if that was Tom’s way of saying he approved of Adrien and Marinette’s potential relationship. Growing excited, Adrien started plotting romantic ways to ask her out. 

_I could take her to my rooftop--ah, wait, no, Chat took her there, not Adrien,_ he thought, smiling softly. _But flowers have to be involved. Definitely. And maybe a new sketchbook? With words of affirmation written at the bottom of each page? Oooh, yes, that could work…_

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard an akuma alarm from within Marinette’s room, presumably from her phone.

Adrien groaned. “Now?” he whispered, glaring at her trap door and its promise of an afternoon with a lovely girl. He opened her door, intent on making an excuse for his soon-to-be absence. “Mari--”

“Tikki, spots on!” Marinette cried, allowing her kwami to be sucked into her earrings. The girl spread her fingers over her eyes, giving herself a familiar, red mask. The transformation light washed over the rest of her body--arms, legs, middle--covering her in her supersuit. She kicked her foot out, spun, and ended the transformation in a position of power: feet planted shoulder-width apart, her fists clenched, and her elbows bent at her sides. 

Her eyes--her _eyes!_ \--shone with determination. Taking in how radiant she was, Adrien’s heart stopped.

And then she blinked. “A-Adrien?” she shrieked, pointing a finger at him. Her alarm was still going off, its call a siren song. “T-This isn’t what it looks like!”

He climbed into her room and held up his hands. “Marinette, I--”

Ladybug straightened her shoulders. Her gorgeous, bluebell eyes took on a resolved, calculating cast to them, and heat pooled in Adrien’s belly. He’d never seen a woman so indescribably powerful.

“We will talk about this,” Ladybug said, her voice low and completely devoid of stuttering. “After I face the akuma.” Her gaze flicked away from him, towards her bed, and Adrien’s shoulders sagged as he was released from his deer-in-the-headlights position. “Wait for me, Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien shivered. Hearing his name--his full name--on Marinette’s lips, where she was serious and treating him like an equal… He wanted to hear that again.

As he reached out for her, entranced, she bolted up her bed and out the skylight faster than he could blink. 

Plagg phased out of his pocket. “What are you waiting for, Casanova?”

Adrien started. “Oh! Right! I, uh…”

Plagg sighed. “Just say the words.”

“Plagg, claws out!”

***

The akuma had been awful, primarily because Adrien couldn’t get his head in the game. He was too busy processing the fact that his Lady-- _Ladybug_ \--was also _Marinette Dupain-Cheng._ He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He was definitely going to ask her out now.

Chat gave her enough time to return home to follow her. He dropped onto her balcony and called off his transformation. “Plagg! She’s--”

“I know, kid.” Plagg phased back into his pocket.

Marinette immediately popped her head out of the skylight. “Adrien? How did you get--”

“Marinette,” Adrien said, grinning from ear to ear. “I have something to explain.”

“Y-Yes, you do,” she said, her eyes wide and panicked.

Marinette ducked down through the skylight. By the time Adrien followed, she was already down the steps, in the middle of her room, running her hands through her hair and tugging out her pigtails. She ended up with her hair down, which thrilled Adrien.

 _Gosh, she’s beautiful,_ Adrien thought, his mind wandering to how the inky strands would feel if he stroked them. _Even when she’s upset._

She glanced down at her feet. “So, um. You know.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, wishing he could take her into his arms and smooth the stress lines away from her puckered forehead. She seemed so worried, and he abruptly felt terrible for being happy about the identity reveal. “I… I know.”

When she didn’t say anything, he frowned and took her hands in his. She didn’t look up at him, but she also didn’t resist his grip. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to walk in on you transforming.”

Finally, she met his eye. “I know. What’s done is done. You know now, and I’ll just… have to be more careful from now on.” Then she pursed her lips. “But how did you get up to my balcony?”

Adrien released one of her hands and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, um, about that… Plagg, you can come out now.”

Marinette’s eyes widened again. “P-Plagg?”

The kwami in question phased out of Adrien’s pocket. “Hi, Pigtails.”

Marinette stammered for a moment, presumingly trying to regain her bearings. “B-But you--and h-he--and I’m…” Her gaze snapped to Adrien’s face, intense and searching. “Chat?”

Adrien’s mouth went dry. “M-My Lady.”

With shaking hands, she reached up and cupped his cheeks. “It _is_ you.”

He smiled down at her. “Yeah. It’s me.” 

“This is touching and all,” Plagg drawled, rolling his huge, green eyes. “But where’s my Sugarcube?”

“I’m here, Plagg!” Tikki said, phasing out of Marinette’s purse. 

“Tikki!” Plagg shouted, tackling her. She giggled as they rolled in the air.

Once they were righted, Tikki kissed his cheek. Plagg hid his face in his hands. “Sugarcuuube, dooon’t. Not in front of the kids.”

Adrien marveled at the two of them and their easy interaction. Seeing that Marinette’s jaw had dropped but that her eyes were sparkling, he beamed. 

“Tikki,” Marinette said, fidgeting a little. Adrien wondered why she was so nervous. “Can you… Can Adrien and I talk for a bit? Alone?”

“Of course, Marinette!” Tikki gushed. “It makes sense that you’d want to talk to Adrien!” She grabbed Plagg’s hand and dragged him into a cabinet. 

“So, um,” Adrien said, blinking down at her. Marinette’s hands slid down to his shoulders. “I should probably tell you right up front that my father forbade me to bake with you guys this afternoon.”

That was not what he wanted to say. That was not what he expected to say. 

Marinette gave him a flat look. She released him to fold her arms. “So you snuck out as Chat.”

Adrien winced. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s why you were out so late that first night,” Marinette said, her brow furrowing. “You’ve been sneaking out to _bake_?” 

“I-It… sounds bad when you put it that way,” Adrien sputtered.

“Adrien…” she whined, holding her head in her hand. Then she raised her gaze to his face again. “I’m not going to tell you to stop, because I like having you here. Just… don’t get caught, okay?”

Adrien smiled. His Lady liked having him here? “I won’t,” he promised. “I like being here, too.”

Marinette’s cheeks bloomed with pink coloring. “You… You do?”

“Very much,” Adrien said, and if his voice was closer to a purr than neutral, he didn’t mind. He placed his hands on her shoulders, craning his neck down so their mouths were mere inches apart. “In fact, there are a lot of things I like about the bakery. You most of all, Marinette.”

"Marinette?" she said, tilting her head and leaning towards him. He could taste her chocolate-coffee breath. "Not Ladybug?"

"Marinette," Adrien confirmed. "Over the past few weeks of baking with you, you're the one who's captured my heart."

Marinette gasped. “Adrien…” Her hands slowly slid up to rest on his chest. The hooded look she was giving him jump-started his heart. She licked her lips.

Just as she raised up on her tiptoes to press her mouth to his, her trap door popped open. “Marinette?” Tom said from behind Adrien, who jumped back from Marinette as if she had burned him. “Adrien? What’s going on? I sent you up here an hour ago.”

“N-N-Nothing, Papa!” Marinette said, her face glowing like a traffic light. “We’re not doing anything!”

Adrien sheepishly turned to face his adopted father. “Sorry, sir, Marinette was designing and I got distracted looking over her drawings.”

Adrien didn’t like lying, especially not to Tom. The man deserved better from him. But Adrien wasn't about to admit that he and Marinette had just fought an akuma side by side and were about to kiss.

Tom didn’t look convinced. “Hmm. Well, I’ve finished the bread, Adrien, so if you wanted to bake something else…” Tom next turned to Marinette. “Did you want to bake with us, sweetie pie?”

Adrien held his breath. There was so much more he wanted to say to Marinette. There were fail-safes they had to set up. Rules. Guidelines. They had to discuss the fallout from the identity reveal.

And he wanted to kiss her, too.

But he also wanted to bake with her. That’s why he’d come over, after all.

Fortunately, Marinette seemed like she was about to make the decision for them.

Marinette glanced at Adrien and then back to her father with a smile. “I’d love to.”

***

“Adrien,” Gabriel said, sweeping into the dining room with his hands clasped behind his back. Adrien had just sat down to dinner, and he perked up at the thought of his father joining him.

“Hello, Father,” Adrien said with a soft smile. “Will you be joining me tonight?”

“No,” Gabriel snapped, and Adrien wilted, his shoulders sagging. Gabriel’s words were clipped and seemed forced, as if he were spitting something bitter out of his mouth. He didn’t look at Adrien while speaking. “I’m here to inform you that you need to go back to that... _bakery_.”

Adrien stared at his father, who sneered at the wall. The boy placed his hands in his lap and gripped his fingers until the tips were bloodless. “May I ask why?”

“I suppose,” Gabriel said, his nose wrinkling slightly. The man sighed, as if informing his son why Gabriel had changed his mind wearied him. “Well. Go on, then. Ask why.”

Adrien blinked twice. “Why, Father?” Adrien whispered, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d trigger Gabriel’s annoyance even further and the man would be truly angry. “Why do I get--need to go back… there?”

Gabriel growled. If Adrien wasn’t so focused on not moving, he would have recoiled. “Your… unique talents are required for a few weeks’ appearances on a cooking show, and you need to look like you know what you’re doing.”

“A cooking show?” Adrien said, his burgeoning excitement starting to outweigh his anxiety about Gabriel’s displeasure. Adrien had found that asking questions of Gabriel seemed to blunt his bad moods; it was a way to be unassuming and submissive in the face of an upset Gabriel. 

Apparently questions weren’t as defiant as plain statements.

Gabriel brought his hand out to rub his temple. “Don’t embarrass me, Adrien. Your face will be on flour bags, cake boxes, and sugar packages. You’ll be working for the brand and getting us exposure.”

Adrien wanted to ask how appearing on a cooking show would be good for the brand, but he decided that there were some questions better left unasked.

“Yes, Father.”

***

“So I’ll only have his blessing to come bake with you guys for a little bit,” Chat told Ladybug on patrol one evening, resting his head in her lap as she sat on the edge of the maintenance platform of the Eiffel Tower. “But that’ll be nice.”

Ladybug stroked his wild mane away from his face. “That’s good. But you’ll figure something out after you’re done with the show, right?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, beaming up at her. “But… There’s something else on my mind, Bug.”

“What’s that?”

Adrien sat up, careful not to bonk her nose with his head, and faced her. He took her gloved hands. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he whispered, “my heart wants what it wants, and I can’t deny it anymore than I can stop breathing. I… I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you go out with me?”

Adrien was ecstatic. The soft, delighted look in Marinette’s eyes told him her answer before the word left her mouth. “Yes.”

***

As Adrien chopped chocolate into small chunks for Seville orange chocolate cookies, Tom easily maneuvered around him to slip his strawberry shortcake batter into the oven. Adrien was confident in the kitchen now, having learned very well in the past few weeks how to handle a knife and follow recipes. He had even started improvising, though he didn’t need to because the bakery was always stocked with ingredients.

Tom washed his hands, dried them, and returned to watch Adrien assemble ingredients for his cookies. “Soooo,” Tom said, and Adrien looked over at the man with an expectant smile and a raised brow. “I heard you asked my daughter out.”

Adrien’s stomach sank. His hands threatened to tremble, so he set the knife down. “Uh, yeah, sir, I did.”

Tom’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Call me Tom, son.”

Adrien luxuriated in the feeling of being called son by this particular father figure. “Tom,” Adrien said, picking up the knife again with sure and steady fingers. “I’m assuming by your expression that my dating Marinette is all right with you?”

Tom let out a booming laugh and slapped his knee. “I was wondering when you would!” 

Adrien blinked at him. A slow smile curved the boy’s lips. “I’m glad to hear that, si--Tom.”

Tom looped an arm around Adrien’s shoulders and gave him a side-hug. Adrien stopped chopping chocolate and leaned into the embrace. “Just treat her well. I expect good things from you, Adrien.”

“Thank you, sir,” Adrien said, his heart warming his body from his head to his toes.

“Adrien,” Tom said, entirely too serious. “You already know how to do this, but I have to ask you again, because now that you’re dating my daughter, our relationship has changed.”

Adrien turned to face Tom head-on. Whatever the man had to ask of him, Adrien would do his utmost to follow his request. “I’m ready, sir.” 

Tom grinned mischievously. “How would you like to learn how to bake?”

And Adrien laughed.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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